A/n: Chapter Three!!! YAAAAAAY!
Disclaimer: *see first chapter*
Chapter Three: Moth Princess
******************************************************************
(Legolas's PoV, dream)
The powder is on the wings of the moth. It beats against my face, soft wings sending shudders down my spine, for I can see its huge, furry, white body bulging over me. It is as big as I am, perhaps bigger.
The white powder cakes on my skin like a layer of dust, settling and sticking like chalk dust. I am in a silver-grey shining gown, my hair is powdered and is a grey pewter color, and it is held in a silver net of flowers. My skin is whiter than the powder. It is nearly luminescent.
I am a Moth Princess. The courtiers, the nobles, and the lords and ladies all see me and laugh at me, calling it out. I flush in shame, and I realize that I have ugly silver-furred moth wings, and suddenly I am running, running through the air to get away.
I come upon a glen, and the entire clearing is filled with silver, grey, and brown moths. They have the bodies of humans. They are wearing beautiful clothing, and their wings do not hinder them at all. They welcome me, and soon insist that I dance. I oblige, and the music is a frenzy. I dance and dance until my slippers are worn through and my balance is failing me, and I am tired as death. Sweat soaks the powder, weighing me down, and I am dizzy.
But then the White Moth who powdered my face appears in front of me, and he asks me to dance with him. And I blush, and I nod, and he takes me in his arms and we dance slowly, which is the way I want it to be.
And the White Moth leads me away from the glen, and we wander into a small, secluded clearing, where the trees hang over the bench and the grass in thick and springy underneath my weary feet. They hurt.
We sit down, and the White Moth holds me in his arms, and he is warm. And his mouth meets mine, and his mouth fits mine perfectly. And we become one, and we need no words because there are none.
(Leggy, waking)
Legolas woke up groggily, and looked out of the high arched windows. They were letting in the sunlight, which played with his hair and warmed his skin. He sat up. There was a white gown with pale blue embroidery laid out upon a chair for him, with a petticoat and a lace bonnet, and a pair of stockings and boots. He sighed,
Legolas remembered his dream of the night before, and grimaced. //Even in my dreams, I'm a princess,// he grumbled to himself. He paused. //It was a very nice dream, though,// he thought, with a small blush creeping over his cheeks. //Especially the White Moth...//
Before a servant could look in on him, Legolas undressed and put on the petticoat. He then began to lace up his corset, not too tightly, for he would need breathing room for riding. The dress came next, and he laced up the back of it without too much difficulty. The hard part was the hair.
Legolas remembered that it was Mali's day off, and sighed. He put his hair up with a few pins, and prayed that it would hold while he slipped the bonnet on over it. He breathed a sigh of relief. It worked.
Walking down the servant's staircase to the kitchen, the Princess nearly walked into Romul. She smiled. "Good morning, brother-"
"Shh!" Romul said, a look of urgency in his eyes. He grabbed her arm, and led her out to the stables, hiding every once in a while to wait for a servant to pass. He said not a single word while they were walking, or even while they were gearing their horses. It was only when the two had reached an isolated picnic area that Romul breathed a sigh of relief and began to explain.
"I'm sorry about all this," he said sheepishly. Legala glared at him.
"Why are you acting so strangely? What is going on?" she demanded impatiently. Romul held a hand up.
"Peace. Let me speak. I brought you out with such secrecy because it was necessary. I couldn't let adar see you."
"... why not?"
"He has gotten it into his head to marry you, and they are sending Lothlorien delegates over tomorrow. You may have to be with one of them, if adar gets his way."
Legala jumped to her feet. "I'll kill him!" she yelled angrily. Romul rolled his eyes.
"And that's why I had to bring you so far out. Here, you'll feel better after you've eaten some breakfast." Legala took a chunk of bread and cheese and tore into it viciously, in a foul mood.
//What is adar thinking?!//
******************************************************************
Legolas waited outside of the audience chamber, slightly more collected than he had been when Romul told him the news. Slightly. He still felt like jumping up on the dais, running over to the throne, and strangling his adar.
A few minutes passed, and Legolas began to pace the floor, praying that Thranduil remembered that he wasn't a princess. //Or else, all is lost, and I will have to die to save the honor of this country. Can you imagine what the gossip would be like if it got out I was a boy? Mirkwood would be shamed for an age!//
Still pacing, Legolas began to think harder. //I wonder, though, why Lorien is sending delegates now? They've always been so stuck-up, and they say that Lorien is completely self-sufficient. They even refuse alliances with Mirkwood and Rivendell! So, why? Unless...//
//Maybe they aren't as secure as they would like us to believe.// Legolas went over to a chest of maps, and sifted through them until he found a map of all of the countries. He paused, and bent over it.
//Lorien itself cannot be under attack. The spell of the Lady will keep all intruders from finding Caras Galadhon. Or... does it? They have had no official colonies for the past few centuries! It has to be Lorien. All right then. Lorien itself is experiencing trouble. But where would trouble come...?// His fingers traced the map in front of him, and he frowned.
//There are three ways, disregarding the paths through the woods. And obviously, trouble would only come through the woods if it was a very small group. Ergo, they came via water. Which means, either the Celebrant, the Nimrodel, or the Great River Anduin. Let me see... the only way to acess the Nimrodel, of course, would be through the mountains. So that is an implausible attack entrance. Scratch Nimrodel.// He frowned.
//And anything coming from north on the Anduin would pass by Mirkwood. South on the Anduin, however... I suppose an enemy could come from Emyn Muil, but if it were from Mordor, it would have to pass over the Falls of Rauros! Which leaves... the Celebrant...//
//The Celebrant runs almost directly from Dimrill Dale. Which means that there is an enemy there.// Legolas stood up, pleased with himself, but puzzled. //Dimrill Dale... that is a foolhardy place to station your troops. It is easily bottlenecked, and all one would need to stopper them in there would be enough soldiers.// Legolas's face lit up and shone like the lamps. Of course! Lorien needed allies, at last, not because they were weak, but because there simply weren't enough battle-hardened soldiers to close in the enemies at Dimrill.
Legolas grinned, proud of his work. As he looked at the setting sun, however, he remembered why he was here. With a small yelp, he strode hurridly into the throne room, face flushed. His father was sitting on the dais, and before him were a group of Imladris Elves. Legolas silenced himself immediately, and waited for his blush to fade underneath the powder he had put on. //At least the damned stuff is good for one thing.// Then he walked around the side, close to the wall, and sat in his usual place beside his adar, his long skirts settling with the faintest rustle.
It took him only a few moments to realize that they were discussing the actions of the Lorien Elves and wondering why they were requesting aid. Legolas hid a grin. "Adar, may I please speak?" he asked in a lull in the debate. Thranduil nodded, and all eyes were turned toward him.
Legolas quickly explained what he had discovered, in as few words as possible. It made sense, after all. His father nodded, and gave him a pleased smile. "Very sensible theory, Legala. You are a pride as a daughter."
Legolas searched Thranduil's face, but there was no sign of recognition. He sighed softly. No. Thranduil did not remember.
The rest of the meeting carried on swiftly, and was concluded likeso. As the Imladris Elves left, Legolas caught one of them, most likely Elledan, staring at him. Legolas stared icily at him until he dropped his gaze, and walked out.
Legolas excused himself, and angrily slammed the door of his room behind him as he entered it. //Stupid Elf! You never stick up for yourself. Now you've gone and figured out adar's problem for him, so he can barter you off to the Lorien bastard all the sooner!//
Legolas sat at his window sadly, watching the rain fall lightly on the panes. His eyes were grey. //But maybe he already knew. After all, a marriage is the perfect way to cement an alliance. Mad or not, adar is a brilliant tactician.//
Resigned to fate, Legolas stared sadly out the window, wishing that he had the nerve to kill himself before the Lorien delegates arrived. Somehow, he knew that he wouldn't do it now. His thoughts wandered, and before he knew it, he had wandered off into the comfort of his dream of the white moth and of flying away from everything, until no one but himself and the white moth were left.
Unbeknownst to Legolas, Mari crept into the room and put him to bed, clothes on, spreading a thin blanket over him.
Later on, Legolas woke up, and wondered why he was still breathing.
Outside, the rain fell steadily, soaking everything, and washing away all the anger and the pain. Legolas got up, and walked over to the window. He put his hand up against it, and smiled. The glass was so cold.
He opened the window. A gust of cold air and rain blew into the room. It soaked him in minutes, dampening his hair and drenching his dress so it hung limply from him. He sighed, feeling the rain wash away the powder and the tears that spilled out of his eyes.
Legolas stepped out of the window and onto the sill. His feet were bare and they looked white and pale against the marble. Legolas shivered. Cold. He let his arms drop to his sides, and let his hair fall into his face, wet and stringy. It looked like pewter when it got wet, like in his dream.
The trees were swaying gently in the wind. Legolas wondered whether or not he should jump. Behind him, his door banged open. His brother was in the room. But Legolas didn't hear him. He was looking down, at the small party of elves who had arrived. They were all cloaked, but their colors said were from Lorien. Legolas looked up and frowned. //How long did I sleep?// he wondered abstractly, frowning. One of the elves looked up and saw him. Legolas watched him. The two stared at each other for a few minutes, and then the Elf said something that was lost in the roar of the rainstorm.
Then Legolas fell, plummeting towards the ground.
His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to scream silently. But then the air was knocked out of him, and he felt a pair of warm hands pulling him up and sitting him gently on the sill. As if from a distance, he heard Romul's voice. Legolas sighed listlessly and looked back towards the Elf. He raised a feeble hand to wave, and cursed himself. His attempt to die had failed. All honor was lost.
Romul's voice echoed in his ears as the Lorien Elf waved back, and then spurred his horse onwards to catch up with his fellows. Finally he turned his attention back to Romul.
"- could have been killed! You're on the second story-"
Legolas put a hand up to his brother's lips. "I'm okay," he said in a flat voice. "Romul, I have to tell you something. Our mother died when we were born. She gave birth to twins." Romul sighed, and glared at him.
"That doesn't explain why you-"
"Twin sons."
Romul stared at him in silence for a few moments, and then began to laugh. Legolas turned his head to stop the tears from showing. "You don't believe me," he said sadly.
Romul grinned. "You? A boy? That, Legala, is simply ludicrous. Why,"
"My name is Legolas!" Legolas snapped. Romul fell silent again.
"You're not serious," he said after a pause. Legolas stared at him, until he looked away. "You can't be," he mumbled. Legolas nodded.
"Yes I can."
"But-"
"But nothing. Romul, I'm a boy, and no amount of clothing or makeup will ever hide that."
Romul stared at him flatly. "No," he said in a calm voice. "You are not. And that, Legala, is all we are going to say on this subject. Good morning, sister. I hope you are ready to meet your husband when you are introduced." He turned towards the door.
Legolas snarled. "Stop right there!" he yelled at Romul. Romul turned.
"Yes, Legala?" he asked patiently. Legolas stared at him, and tears began to spill out of his eyes. //It's no use. He will not believe me, no matter what I do or say.//
Instead, Legolas dropped his gaze and fell forwards into Romul, wrapping his arms around his taller, stronger, and more narrowminded brother. "I'm sorry," he said, sniffing. Romul patted his head reassuringly.
"It's all right. Was this about marrying the Lorien Elf?" Legolas nodded reluctantly. In a way, it was...
"Don't worry, Legala," he said, hugging her back. "Don't worry. I'll make sure that none of them hurt you, ever. And the Elf that marries you will have to have my approval, that's a guarantee. You can always request that you have different delegates sent, you know." Legolas looked up at Romul in suprise.
"Since when do you know how to comfort a crying girl?" Romul grinned, and kissed his cheek.
"Since I was born, Legala, since I was born!" Legolas smiled through his tears.
//Well, I suppose marrying a girl would be worse. At least I get to marry my gender preference. Fact is, I really would like to marry a man...//
//But would a man ever want to marry me? I'm not really a girl!//
Legolas buried his face in his brother's chest. "Okay," he said hesitantly. "I can believe that."
Romul smiled. "I promise you, it'll be okay," he said in a reassuring voice. Legolas smiled back.
//I wish I had your confidence.//
*****tbc*****
A/n: Ho ho ho!!!! Next chapter: Haldir vs. Romul!!!! BANG CRASH CRASH! ^^. And our dear Legolas gets to meet his husband-to-be, as well! (can anyone guess who he marries? hm, tough one...)
Muse: Well, duh, he marries Haldir.
Shush!
Muse: *rolls eyes* They already know, dumbo.
Oh. Well, it is my latest favorite pairing and all... heh.
Muse:
Disclaimer: *see first chapter*
Chapter Three: Moth Princess
******************************************************************
(Legolas's PoV, dream)
The powder is on the wings of the moth. It beats against my face, soft wings sending shudders down my spine, for I can see its huge, furry, white body bulging over me. It is as big as I am, perhaps bigger.
The white powder cakes on my skin like a layer of dust, settling and sticking like chalk dust. I am in a silver-grey shining gown, my hair is powdered and is a grey pewter color, and it is held in a silver net of flowers. My skin is whiter than the powder. It is nearly luminescent.
I am a Moth Princess. The courtiers, the nobles, and the lords and ladies all see me and laugh at me, calling it out. I flush in shame, and I realize that I have ugly silver-furred moth wings, and suddenly I am running, running through the air to get away.
I come upon a glen, and the entire clearing is filled with silver, grey, and brown moths. They have the bodies of humans. They are wearing beautiful clothing, and their wings do not hinder them at all. They welcome me, and soon insist that I dance. I oblige, and the music is a frenzy. I dance and dance until my slippers are worn through and my balance is failing me, and I am tired as death. Sweat soaks the powder, weighing me down, and I am dizzy.
But then the White Moth who powdered my face appears in front of me, and he asks me to dance with him. And I blush, and I nod, and he takes me in his arms and we dance slowly, which is the way I want it to be.
And the White Moth leads me away from the glen, and we wander into a small, secluded clearing, where the trees hang over the bench and the grass in thick and springy underneath my weary feet. They hurt.
We sit down, and the White Moth holds me in his arms, and he is warm. And his mouth meets mine, and his mouth fits mine perfectly. And we become one, and we need no words because there are none.
(Leggy, waking)
Legolas woke up groggily, and looked out of the high arched windows. They were letting in the sunlight, which played with his hair and warmed his skin. He sat up. There was a white gown with pale blue embroidery laid out upon a chair for him, with a petticoat and a lace bonnet, and a pair of stockings and boots. He sighed,
Legolas remembered his dream of the night before, and grimaced. //Even in my dreams, I'm a princess,// he grumbled to himself. He paused. //It was a very nice dream, though,// he thought, with a small blush creeping over his cheeks. //Especially the White Moth...//
Before a servant could look in on him, Legolas undressed and put on the petticoat. He then began to lace up his corset, not too tightly, for he would need breathing room for riding. The dress came next, and he laced up the back of it without too much difficulty. The hard part was the hair.
Legolas remembered that it was Mali's day off, and sighed. He put his hair up with a few pins, and prayed that it would hold while he slipped the bonnet on over it. He breathed a sigh of relief. It worked.
Walking down the servant's staircase to the kitchen, the Princess nearly walked into Romul. She smiled. "Good morning, brother-"
"Shh!" Romul said, a look of urgency in his eyes. He grabbed her arm, and led her out to the stables, hiding every once in a while to wait for a servant to pass. He said not a single word while they were walking, or even while they were gearing their horses. It was only when the two had reached an isolated picnic area that Romul breathed a sigh of relief and began to explain.
"I'm sorry about all this," he said sheepishly. Legala glared at him.
"Why are you acting so strangely? What is going on?" she demanded impatiently. Romul held a hand up.
"Peace. Let me speak. I brought you out with such secrecy because it was necessary. I couldn't let adar see you."
"... why not?"
"He has gotten it into his head to marry you, and they are sending Lothlorien delegates over tomorrow. You may have to be with one of them, if adar gets his way."
Legala jumped to her feet. "I'll kill him!" she yelled angrily. Romul rolled his eyes.
"And that's why I had to bring you so far out. Here, you'll feel better after you've eaten some breakfast." Legala took a chunk of bread and cheese and tore into it viciously, in a foul mood.
//What is adar thinking?!//
******************************************************************
Legolas waited outside of the audience chamber, slightly more collected than he had been when Romul told him the news. Slightly. He still felt like jumping up on the dais, running over to the throne, and strangling his adar.
A few minutes passed, and Legolas began to pace the floor, praying that Thranduil remembered that he wasn't a princess. //Or else, all is lost, and I will have to die to save the honor of this country. Can you imagine what the gossip would be like if it got out I was a boy? Mirkwood would be shamed for an age!//
Still pacing, Legolas began to think harder. //I wonder, though, why Lorien is sending delegates now? They've always been so stuck-up, and they say that Lorien is completely self-sufficient. They even refuse alliances with Mirkwood and Rivendell! So, why? Unless...//
//Maybe they aren't as secure as they would like us to believe.// Legolas went over to a chest of maps, and sifted through them until he found a map of all of the countries. He paused, and bent over it.
//Lorien itself cannot be under attack. The spell of the Lady will keep all intruders from finding Caras Galadhon. Or... does it? They have had no official colonies for the past few centuries! It has to be Lorien. All right then. Lorien itself is experiencing trouble. But where would trouble come...?// His fingers traced the map in front of him, and he frowned.
//There are three ways, disregarding the paths through the woods. And obviously, trouble would only come through the woods if it was a very small group. Ergo, they came via water. Which means, either the Celebrant, the Nimrodel, or the Great River Anduin. Let me see... the only way to acess the Nimrodel, of course, would be through the mountains. So that is an implausible attack entrance. Scratch Nimrodel.// He frowned.
//And anything coming from north on the Anduin would pass by Mirkwood. South on the Anduin, however... I suppose an enemy could come from Emyn Muil, but if it were from Mordor, it would have to pass over the Falls of Rauros! Which leaves... the Celebrant...//
//The Celebrant runs almost directly from Dimrill Dale. Which means that there is an enemy there.// Legolas stood up, pleased with himself, but puzzled. //Dimrill Dale... that is a foolhardy place to station your troops. It is easily bottlenecked, and all one would need to stopper them in there would be enough soldiers.// Legolas's face lit up and shone like the lamps. Of course! Lorien needed allies, at last, not because they were weak, but because there simply weren't enough battle-hardened soldiers to close in the enemies at Dimrill.
Legolas grinned, proud of his work. As he looked at the setting sun, however, he remembered why he was here. With a small yelp, he strode hurridly into the throne room, face flushed. His father was sitting on the dais, and before him were a group of Imladris Elves. Legolas silenced himself immediately, and waited for his blush to fade underneath the powder he had put on. //At least the damned stuff is good for one thing.// Then he walked around the side, close to the wall, and sat in his usual place beside his adar, his long skirts settling with the faintest rustle.
It took him only a few moments to realize that they were discussing the actions of the Lorien Elves and wondering why they were requesting aid. Legolas hid a grin. "Adar, may I please speak?" he asked in a lull in the debate. Thranduil nodded, and all eyes were turned toward him.
Legolas quickly explained what he had discovered, in as few words as possible. It made sense, after all. His father nodded, and gave him a pleased smile. "Very sensible theory, Legala. You are a pride as a daughter."
Legolas searched Thranduil's face, but there was no sign of recognition. He sighed softly. No. Thranduil did not remember.
The rest of the meeting carried on swiftly, and was concluded likeso. As the Imladris Elves left, Legolas caught one of them, most likely Elledan, staring at him. Legolas stared icily at him until he dropped his gaze, and walked out.
Legolas excused himself, and angrily slammed the door of his room behind him as he entered it. //Stupid Elf! You never stick up for yourself. Now you've gone and figured out adar's problem for him, so he can barter you off to the Lorien bastard all the sooner!//
Legolas sat at his window sadly, watching the rain fall lightly on the panes. His eyes were grey. //But maybe he already knew. After all, a marriage is the perfect way to cement an alliance. Mad or not, adar is a brilliant tactician.//
Resigned to fate, Legolas stared sadly out the window, wishing that he had the nerve to kill himself before the Lorien delegates arrived. Somehow, he knew that he wouldn't do it now. His thoughts wandered, and before he knew it, he had wandered off into the comfort of his dream of the white moth and of flying away from everything, until no one but himself and the white moth were left.
Unbeknownst to Legolas, Mari crept into the room and put him to bed, clothes on, spreading a thin blanket over him.
Later on, Legolas woke up, and wondered why he was still breathing.
Outside, the rain fell steadily, soaking everything, and washing away all the anger and the pain. Legolas got up, and walked over to the window. He put his hand up against it, and smiled. The glass was so cold.
He opened the window. A gust of cold air and rain blew into the room. It soaked him in minutes, dampening his hair and drenching his dress so it hung limply from him. He sighed, feeling the rain wash away the powder and the tears that spilled out of his eyes.
Legolas stepped out of the window and onto the sill. His feet were bare and they looked white and pale against the marble. Legolas shivered. Cold. He let his arms drop to his sides, and let his hair fall into his face, wet and stringy. It looked like pewter when it got wet, like in his dream.
The trees were swaying gently in the wind. Legolas wondered whether or not he should jump. Behind him, his door banged open. His brother was in the room. But Legolas didn't hear him. He was looking down, at the small party of elves who had arrived. They were all cloaked, but their colors said were from Lorien. Legolas looked up and frowned. //How long did I sleep?// he wondered abstractly, frowning. One of the elves looked up and saw him. Legolas watched him. The two stared at each other for a few minutes, and then the Elf said something that was lost in the roar of the rainstorm.
Then Legolas fell, plummeting towards the ground.
His eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to scream silently. But then the air was knocked out of him, and he felt a pair of warm hands pulling him up and sitting him gently on the sill. As if from a distance, he heard Romul's voice. Legolas sighed listlessly and looked back towards the Elf. He raised a feeble hand to wave, and cursed himself. His attempt to die had failed. All honor was lost.
Romul's voice echoed in his ears as the Lorien Elf waved back, and then spurred his horse onwards to catch up with his fellows. Finally he turned his attention back to Romul.
"- could have been killed! You're on the second story-"
Legolas put a hand up to his brother's lips. "I'm okay," he said in a flat voice. "Romul, I have to tell you something. Our mother died when we were born. She gave birth to twins." Romul sighed, and glared at him.
"That doesn't explain why you-"
"Twin sons."
Romul stared at him in silence for a few moments, and then began to laugh. Legolas turned his head to stop the tears from showing. "You don't believe me," he said sadly.
Romul grinned. "You? A boy? That, Legala, is simply ludicrous. Why,"
"My name is Legolas!" Legolas snapped. Romul fell silent again.
"You're not serious," he said after a pause. Legolas stared at him, until he looked away. "You can't be," he mumbled. Legolas nodded.
"Yes I can."
"But-"
"But nothing. Romul, I'm a boy, and no amount of clothing or makeup will ever hide that."
Romul stared at him flatly. "No," he said in a calm voice. "You are not. And that, Legala, is all we are going to say on this subject. Good morning, sister. I hope you are ready to meet your husband when you are introduced." He turned towards the door.
Legolas snarled. "Stop right there!" he yelled at Romul. Romul turned.
"Yes, Legala?" he asked patiently. Legolas stared at him, and tears began to spill out of his eyes. //It's no use. He will not believe me, no matter what I do or say.//
Instead, Legolas dropped his gaze and fell forwards into Romul, wrapping his arms around his taller, stronger, and more narrowminded brother. "I'm sorry," he said, sniffing. Romul patted his head reassuringly.
"It's all right. Was this about marrying the Lorien Elf?" Legolas nodded reluctantly. In a way, it was...
"Don't worry, Legala," he said, hugging her back. "Don't worry. I'll make sure that none of them hurt you, ever. And the Elf that marries you will have to have my approval, that's a guarantee. You can always request that you have different delegates sent, you know." Legolas looked up at Romul in suprise.
"Since when do you know how to comfort a crying girl?" Romul grinned, and kissed his cheek.
"Since I was born, Legala, since I was born!" Legolas smiled through his tears.
//Well, I suppose marrying a girl would be worse. At least I get to marry my gender preference. Fact is, I really would like to marry a man...//
//But would a man ever want to marry me? I'm not really a girl!//
Legolas buried his face in his brother's chest. "Okay," he said hesitantly. "I can believe that."
Romul smiled. "I promise you, it'll be okay," he said in a reassuring voice. Legolas smiled back.
//I wish I had your confidence.//
*****tbc*****
A/n: Ho ho ho!!!! Next chapter: Haldir vs. Romul!!!! BANG CRASH CRASH! ^^. And our dear Legolas gets to meet his husband-to-be, as well! (can anyone guess who he marries? hm, tough one...)
Muse: Well, duh, he marries Haldir.
Shush!
Muse: *rolls eyes* They already know, dumbo.
Oh. Well, it is my latest favorite pairing and all... heh.
Muse: